


The New Recruit

by Jai_Anoleis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Blood, One Shot, Post Talon Widowmaker, Smut, Widowmaker is a bit of a bitch, mild violence, open wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jai_Anoleis/pseuds/Jai_Anoleis
Summary: Pharah is not at all fond of Overwatch's newest recruit. However, a showdown in a thin halfway just might change that."This is not a gunfight, Lacroix. You can't win this."A sweet delicate scent tickled Pharah's nose and she realized that she was smelling Widowmaker's skin. Was it a perfume? Lotion? Perhaps a light spray? Whatever it was, it was tickling her nostrils in the most subtle yet intrusive way. She noticed beads of sweat dripping down Widowmaker's forehead like the condensation on a cold glass of water. When she made her way down to her eyes she realized they'd been watching her the entire time. The smirk had returned, mocked her."Oui, physically you outmatch me, but winning is not about strength."A solid knee stabbed Pharah in her stomach causing her to drop to her knees. She then pulled out the rope from her grappling hook and with a quickness wrapped it around Pharah's wrists. Where the hell did she get that from?  Pharah thought briefly before her unscarred cheek was forced against the wall."Winning is about strategy."





	The New Recruit

**Author's Note:**

> The violence isn't exactly graphic and is pretty mild, buuuuut there is some bleeding involved so if you don't like that sort of thing, fair warning.

Pharah did not consider herself to be a mean or negative person. In fact, she often prided herself on usually looking for the positive in any situation and was the first to commend someone whenever they deserved it. However, that positive nature did not extend to Overwatch's newest recruit. She rolled her eyes as her own mother went on and on about how Widowmaker had proven to be a fine addition to the Overwatch team especially for saving the mission after Pharah had been shot down by enemy fire and everyone else was pinned down.  _Nearly as good as me_ , Ana had said. Meanwhile Widowmaker stood in front of everyone with the cockiest smirk she could muster. "What can I say? I always get my shot." Her eyes rested on Pharah when she said this. Pharah scoffed. There wasn't an ounce of humility in her blood.

 She'd tried with everything in her to be as accepting as everyone else of their new recruit. After all, having one of the world's best snipers on your team was a major asset. It would've been easier if Angela had been able to do something about that attitude of hers. She'd been able to restore parts of Widowmaker's mind, even got her to be loyal to Overwatch, but that superiority was burned into her brain with indelible ink and Pharah didn't think she could take it anymore.

 Then there was the fact that Mercy had become Widowmaker's own guardian angel. Didn't matter that the woman had come frighteningly close to killing her on many of occasions. That had of course been forgiven with the re-reconditioning, if you wanted to call it that. Pharah wasn't sure of what it had actually consisted of as the medical jargon Mercy used when she rambled on about it made little sense to her. All she knew was the woman's skin was now a pale purple instead of a deep blue and her attitude was still shit. Any wrong doing Widowmaker was capable of was somehow inexplicable excused because how would you be if you'd be kidnapped and brainwashed into killing? Less like a bitch, Pharah thought, but she couldn't say for sure.

"With the ridiculous way you linger in the sky, it's a wonder you haven't been shot down before. I'd considered it many times in the past but decided it was  _much_ too easy for my taste," Widowmaker had said to her earlier as Mercy stitched up the split skin on her left cheek. Pharah had gritted her teeth but remained silent as Widowmaker chuckled her way out of the room. Mercy had grabbed her shoulders pin pointing where a good portion of tension lied. "Be nice, Fareeha. She's been through more than you can imagine," she'd said softly. 

"So you keep telling me," she growled.

"It's true. She's just trying to find her place here. Give her time. She'll get better." Pharah highly doubted that but she didn't say anything else. Instead she focused on how to work off some of the anger before it ruined her entire evening and she had the perfect idea of how to do so. 

Brown eyes met gold in an intense standoff as Pharah and Widowmaker passed each other in the thin hallway. There was barely a foot between them. In fact, they were close enough for Pharah to feel the coolness radiating off Widow's skin. A deep scowl rested on her face. If she had the opportunity to choose a superpower, at this moment it would've been laser vision so she could zap that cocky smirk right off of Widow's face. Her plan to work off stress had involved firing multiple rounds into steel targets at the shooting range, but who had to show up and ruin it? Not only did she invade her space but she proceed to "Teach her the ways of a real sniper". Not that Pharah even considered herself a sniper at all, but that didn't stop her from wishing she could've hit the red target in the head and heart area every time like Widowmaker could so effortlessly. After an hour of Widow showing off Pharah had had enough. She'd stormed out with the protective gear still on her ears. She was on her way back to drop it off when she saw Widowmaker coming her way. A sharp breath escaped her lips.

Widow stopped in tracks and glanced over her shoulder with a raised brow. " _Un_ _problème_ , Amari?" 

Pharah gritted her teeth and tried to manage her breathing. She heard her breath echo off the walls harshly and knew Widow could hear it as well. Her eyes pressed over Widow's now pale skin. It looked less sickly than the blue, she thought, but was far from normal. She had on black jogging pants similar to the ones Pharah was wearing with the same Overwatch logo on the side. Only Widowmaker's were a bit tighter in ass area. Her white t-shirt was damp and her face had a light sheen to it. Strands on her purple hair dangled on either side of her face, a few pieces sticking to her lips. For a slight moment she was almost...desirable. Pharah shook that thought out of her head and kept walking. However, she halted again when she heard the sardonic chuckles behind her.

"There's no need to be jealous, Amari. We are on the same side now."

This caused Pharah to whip around. "Jealous of what exactly?"

Widowmaker put her hand on her chest. "I think you mean w _hom_."

Pharah rolled her eyes.  _Be nice,_ _Fareeha_ _,_ she heard in the back of her head. But Mercy wasn't here nor was she the constant target of Widow's haughty attitude. She was done being nice. "You're here out of pity. They all just feel sorry for you. If you hadn't been kidnapped and brainwashed, Overwatch would have no use for you. You're only here because they didn't know what else to do with you. You're nothing to be jealous of."

Widowmaker's brows wrinkled for only a moment before her grin returned. For a moment she just looked at Pharah like she always did, like she was far superior. She then took a slow step towards her. Pharah could feel the goosebumps form on her skin from the chill. She looked her in the eye as she stepped closer to her now wore the smirk on her face. It was time for Widow to get a taste of her own medicine. "Problem, Lacroix?"

Widowmaker nodded ever so slightly her eyes ironing careful over Pharah's body from her thick thighs, tone stomach, strong neck and full lips. Her eyes rested on her lips for a long while before she raised her elbow and jammed it into Pharah's jaw. She hit the floor hard, splatters of blood painting the white tiles from her busted stitches. Pharah's eyes grew wide as she looked up at her.

"Do you really wish to do this with me?"

Pharah hopped up and wiped her sore cheek back of her hand. It came back dark red. With a low growl she clenched her teeth and stormed at Widow, grabbing her firmly by the neck and slamming her back hard into the gray wall. She squeezed tightly as Widowmaker writhed against her struggling to get away. Pharah grinned again. That smirk had been wiped right off that spider's face. "This is not a gunfight, Lacroix. You can't win this."

A sweet delicate scent tickled Pharah's nose and she realized that she was smelling Widowmaker's skin. Was it a perfume? Lotion? Perhaps a light spray? Whatever it was, it was tickling her nostrils in the most subtle yet intrusive way. She noticed beads of sweat dripping down Widowmaker's forehead like the condensation on a cold glass of water. When she made her way down to her eyes she realized they'd been watching her the entire time. The smirk had returned, mocked her.

" _Oui_ , physically you outmatch me, but winning is not about strength."

A solid knee stabbed Pharah in her stomach causing her to drop to her knees. Widowmaker rubbed her neck which was red from where Pharah had grabbed her. She then pulled out the rope from her grappling hook and with a quickness wrapped it around Pharah's wrists.  _Where the hell did she get that from?_  Pharah thought briefly before her unscarred cheek was forced against the wall. 

"Winning is about strategy."

Pharah struggled, angry with herself for not being more alert. She could take this woman easily, could've had her on her knees without a second thought. So how had she gotten herself in this position? Widowmaker's breath was cool against her ear as she pressed her body against Pharah, breasts against her back, groin on her ass. She tried to buck against her and push her away but Widow remained unmoved.

"Just like a little fly," Widowmaker laughed. "They always struggle in the web, when it's much too late."

Sharp teeth pulled at Pharah's ear followed by more mocking laughter. A firm finger slid down the center of her back over her firm bottom before a firm palm grabbed her heated center. Pharah froze. "What do you think you're doing?"

That cool breath was now on her cheek. "What do  _you_  think I'm doing? You wanted a fight,  _non_?"

The ties to her jogging pants loosened and a hand slid down the front. From behind her she felt a knee spread her legs. Pharah wasn't sure what to do. A war was taking place in her mind. This woman who she despised with almost everything in her was causing involuntary reactions from her body. There was no protest from her legs as they parted, her gym shoes skidding across the floor as they did. Why had she stopped fighting? It wasn't like her to give up. But that sweet scent was still dancing in her nose, clouding her mind. Then those slender fingers were dividing her lower lips, massaging her ever so gently. A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

" _Pas de mots_?" Widowmaker growled against her ear. "Now is not the time for silence."

Pharah sucked her bottom lip, tasted the metallic blood as she felt a finger slide inside of her and a hand slide under her shirt. She clenched her fingers, grabbed the edge of Widowmaker's shirt but Widow pulled away and increased the pressure she applied. "Could it be  _l'oiseau_  likes  _l'araignée_?" 

Pharah released a growl equal parts frustration and pleasure. She wanted to will herself to not like this, to use her weight to push her away so she could focus on freeing her hands but her body would not allow it. Her brain was overpowered by her lower half. It made her grind into Widowmaker with shamefully desperate need. Her fingers reached out more, searching for the edge of that t-shirt but only found air. She bit her bottom lip. There was a word dancing on the tip of her tongue that she was trying so hard to not free. She heard the quiet chuckles behind her. No, she told her herself, she couldn't give in any more than she already had. She couldn't let her completely win. But then that gently finger stopped massaging her and the other pulled out leaving her feeling hollow inside. She felt cold fingers walk up her neck, underneath her chin and rest on her lips. Then she felt the rope release its grasp of her wrists and fall to the floor. Widowmaker grabbed her shoulder and spun her around so that they were face to face. The smirk was there even more brilliant than it had previously been. "You're free," she said after licking her lips. "Now what, little bird?"

Her golden eyes sparkled as they challenged Pharah to make a move. She could walk away, act like this had never happened, salvage some of her pride. Or she could grab her, beat her mercilessly for violating her this way. She could feel the blood trickling down her cheek and feel the pain from that open wound. She needed to pay for that. But that was her brain talking, her powerless, sidelined brain. Her lower half was still very much in control. Her eyes followed over Widow's thin purple lips. She moved her face close to hers, allowed her lips to graze hers. Her fingers found the draw strings of Widow's pants. While maintaining that eye contact she undid the tie. Her fingers hooked on the edge of her pants. Widowmaker grabbed her wrists, pushed her back against the wall. Her nose was pressed against Pharah's neck as she whispered, "Say something."

Pharah swallowed hard. That word inched further on the edge of her tongue, closer to her lips. Her brain protested. You can stop this. Push her away, leave her cocky ass right here. Go get that wound stitched back up. Leave. But she couldn't ignore the way her body was beginning to shudder like an addict going through withdrawals. Her breathing began to speed up as she felt her lips part. Barely audible like a soft gust of wind she said, "Please."

Widowmaker pulled away from her neck, grabbed her chin so she could look her in the eye. " _R_ _épètes_."

Pharah closed her eyes. "Please."

" _Plus_ _forte_."

"Please!"

More chuckles as Widowmaker's hands caressed Pharah's cheek, wiping up some of that blood like it was perfectly normal to have another's blood on her flesh. Pharah felt cool lips against hers. It was not what she was expecting. They were soft, gentle, yet insatiable. A warm tongue found its way between her lips. She welcomed it, her hands gripping thick purple hair. Her brain was deeply disappointed. How could she let this happen? But her core was on fire. She grabbed the edges of Widow's pants again but received no resistance this time. She eased then half way down her thighs and got a handful of her firm ass then smacked it hard. Widowmaker growled in her ear. Pharah rubbed where she'd smacked, relished the feel of it against her palm. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't eyed it from a distance before despite how much she disliked the woman. But palming it was a different experience, much more satisfying. Widowmaker pulled her away from the wall long enough to pull her joggers down then eased her back against it. Her need grew through the kiss as she ground herself into Pharah. Her fingers found their way back to Pharah's core but this time she slid two fingers inside causing a sharp moan to escape Pharah's lips. Pharah held her tight as Widow pushed into her roughly, rocking her against the wall. Pharah's hands slid down Widow's arms, over her hips, tried to find that hot spot between her legs, but Widowmaker pressed harder into her. "Not yet, eager bird."

Her teeth sunk into Pharah's neck as Pharah began to hum in her ear. She felt that pleasure spreading across her groin like a forest fire. Her skin was hot, damp against her enemy. She grabbed her shoulders, held her tight as her eyes began to roll back involuntarily. Her body shook violently as she held Widowmaker to keep herself from falling. Even pinned against the wall she felt her body sliding down until Widowmaker put her knee between her legs again and held her in place. Her breath was uneven as it forced itself from her lungs and she felt lightheaded. The room felt like it was spinning as she listened to both of their breaths, out of sync, echoing around them.

When she opened her eyes, for a split second she saw tenderness radiating from Widowmaker's. But then the smirk returned. Slowly she ran her tongue across Pharah's unscarred cheek before biting into it tenderly. Her fingers then touched softly on the wounded one, wiping up more of that blood before kissing her once again. "Where's that aggression now?" She asked with arched brows.

Pharah thought for a moment, her brain regaining some control. There was no way to undo what had been done, true, but she could still take some control of this situation. Pharah put her hands on Widow's shoulders and pushed her back on the ground causing her head to hit the tile floor hard. Widowmaker groaned while looking at her with wide eyes. She didn't check to see if she was okay, though the thought had run across her mind. Widowmaker's shirt had specs of her blood all over it. The was also smears on the floor, probably on the wall. That was going to be a problem. Later. Not now. 

Her hands went right to Widowmaker's sneakers and yanked them off, right then left. She then grabbed the edge of her joggers and pulled them in one swell swoop along with her underwear. Her eyes widened when she saw the stickiness between Widow's thighs. She and Widow make eye contact once more, Widow clearly aware that she had lost the upper hand. She attempted to close her legs but Pharah smacked the back of her thigh and forced them open. A new scent was now tickling her nose. It was tangy, musky, and strong. Pharah licked her lips as she lowered her face towards the source. The sound of Widow's ragged breathing played in her ears like a song. She tried to hold on to it as she used two fingers to part Widow's sticky lower lips and ran her tongue through the middle. Widowmaker's body shook violently as she released a hissing sound. 

Her speed was slow and deliberate as she tasted her enemy. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She felt like she could do this forever, never ending. Widowmaker's hand touched the back of her head but Pharah swatted it away and backed away from her. "Hands at your side," she ordered.

Widowmaker narrowed her eyes. "Or what?"

Pharah wiped her face with the back of her hand, noticing with a glance that her blood now painted the inside of Widow's thigh. She leaned back on her knees and folded her arms across her chest. 

Widowmaker swallowed hard then closed her eyes and sighed.  "Fine." Her hands rested at her side. 

Pharah inched back between her thighs enjoying the coolness of the skin across her cheek. She planted little bits up and down both legs enjoying the way Widowmaker jumped after each one. Then she let her tongue find the smoothness between her lower lips once more, thankful that Widowmaker hadn't decided to be difficult because she hadn't wanted to stop. Her heart raced as she felt Widowmaker writhing underneath her. She felt her hand on the back of her head once again then quickly pull away once she realized what she'd done. Pharah was in complete control now and that only made it that much more enjoyable. She slipped a finger inside of her and for the first time heard a melody join Widowmaker's gasps. Pharah smiled. The lone finger had gone in so easily. It needed company. She added another eliciting more moans from her. Pharah's heart raced again. She started off slow but only for a moment. She thought of the way Widow had pounded her with no mercy. She didn't deserve mercy either. She pushed hard and fast while keeping her tongue dancing around Widow's clit. Widowmaker began singing the sweetest song to ever hit Pharah's ears and she enjoyed every moment of it. She felt two hands on the back of her head but this time she did nothing about it. She understood the need because she was feeling it too starting from the pit of her stomach and moving its way down. Widow's legs were tightening around her head. Her moans were getting louder. Pharah's arm was on fire but she kept pushing until she heard a deep guttural groan fly out of Widow's throat as her fingers gripped Pharah's hair and pulled tight, holding her in place until they released and pushed. " _Non_ ," she gasped. "No more. No more."

For a moment they simply lay there, Widow with her eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape, and Pharah rested her unscarred cheek on the side of her thigh walking circles on her skin with her fingers. She enjoyed the feel of it, lukewarm and soft against her own fiery skin and the soft sounds of her irregular breaths. In this moment she didn't understand why she didn't like Widowmaker. Maybe it was because she had gained Mercy's undying attention or the praise of her colleagues when she was so used to it before. Maybe it was jealousy. Pharah shook away the thought. Didn't matter. She'd never admit to it either way. 

But then the smirk returned. Widowmaker sat up and examine her cheek as if admiring her handiwork. She eased from underneath her, stood gracefully and slipped on her sweats and shoes. Then she looked around at the blood smeared on the wall and tile floor. "You should get that looked at," she said before walking off leaving Pharah alone with her mess. Pharah examined the scene around her. It at the very least looked like someone had gotten beaten badly. She pulled her knees to her chest and hit her face, shaking her head. She once against understood exactly why she couldn't stand the new recruit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pharah was originally supposed to completely own Widowmaker all the way through...clearly that idea didn't pan out. Thanks for reading!


End file.
